


Sage

by kalelle



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalelle/pseuds/kalelle





	Sage

Johanna Watson is very displeased. She has been through a lot. She's been through Afghanistan. She's been through medschool. She's been blown up, shot, stabbed, spat on, punched, kicked, made fun of, and this is worse than all of that. Combined. Johanna s suffering from hor body's monthly function, and her housemate is pouting and it is making her angry.

"HOLMES!" she shouts, slamming the front door to 221B Baker street. She stomps up the stairs, pulling her jacket off and folding it over her arm. She's wearing a simple pinstripe bodice and long skirt, with sensible flat shoes. Her brown hair is swept back in a bun, all the better to expose her upset face. She's pretty, when she's happy, and kind of scary when she isn't. Her faint limp is a hint as to what she's been through, and she uses a cane, so as not to aggravate the wound.

She barrels through the door to her housemate's room, and looks around the murky space for the offending detective. The fire is burning some sort of herb, sickly sweet and clouding the room. Various projects clutter up the area, stacks of books, an overturned ink bottle drips onto the floor, staining the floorboards. The curtains are drawn, and there is a layer of dust on just about everything.

The offending party, Sherlocke Holmes, is draped over the end of a daycouch, a veritable mess. Her dark hair is in need of a good wash, and seems to be doing its best to defy gravity - Johanna knows the culprit is those long fingers, stained by chemicals, pushed through the tangles over and over. The woman is wearing trousers and a mens shirt, though half the buttons seem to be missing, and Johanna can see a fair amount of creamy skin.

Sherlocke is sleeping, her features smoothed in rest, eyes fluttering in the midst of a dream. The sight mollifies Johanna, whose estrogen-fueled rage dissipates at the sight of her colleague at rest. She crosses the room and tries to gently rearrange her, as sleeping with no support for the neck is unhealthy, and Sherlocke doesn't need the extra stress. The movement, however, rouses Miss Sherlocke, who yawns and sits up slowly. "Watson?"

It is a fact as old as time: when two women reside together, their biological clocks sync up to each other. While Johanna's normally patient and calm disposition turns to fire and brimstone, Sherlocke suffers a case of lethargy and becomes quiet. She refuses to leave her room come hell or high water - or even the wrath of Johanna, which is quite formidable indeed.

Sherlocke scrubs her hands through her hair, messing it up further, and in a strange loss of control, Johanna reaches out and tries to smooth the unruly locks down. "Holmes, you really do need to practice better hygeine. I know that you're capable of it."

"Please, Watson, it is simply too early for a scolding." Sherlocke mumbles, still waking up. She only ever wakes up at this pace when she feels safe, so Watson will keep her peace.

"It is long past noon, and you would know this if you cared to open your blinds more than once a week.." Johanna says, watching as Sherlocke stretches her arms above her head, and she finds that she is suddenly treated to a nice view of Sherlocke's cleavage. She swallows lightly and tries to look away before Holmes opens her eyes.

Johanna is sure she's been caught, because when Sherlocke opens her eyes, there's a gleam there, and she grins. "See something you like, Johanna?" her tone is teasing.

She turns to walk away, but Sherlocke has a hand tangled in her skirt before she gets a step away. "Holmes..." she tries to warn, but she's pulled back and finds herself down the day couch next to Sherlocke, who is giving her a strange look. They're close. Too close. Johanna tries not to avert her gaze from Sherlocke's dark gaze and fails, looking away, only to find a set of soft lips upon her own.

Sherlocke tastes a bit like what the burning herb smells like, sweet, overpowering, a bit smokey. There are hands on her sides, holding her, and her own hands, she finds, are holding on to Sherlocke's' forearms.

And as soon as she is there, Sherlocke is gone, across the room and at the door. She smiles at Watson over her shoulder, thanks her for the wake up call, and disappears down the hallway. Johanna hears the door to the bathing room open then close, and she shakes her head. The entire exchange took about three minutes, and she's gone from seeing red to dazed. And she really shouldn't be surprised. It's not like Sherlocke doesn't pull this same dirty trick every single time Johanna is upset at her.

With that, Johanna gets up, douses the sweet fire, opens the curtains, and departs for her own room, listening to the faint sound of Sherlocke's humming, in a much better mood than she was moments ago.


End file.
